The Life of a Malfoy
by Shellie1
Summary: Ever wondered it would be like to be the sole heir of the Malfoy fortune? Slip, for a moment, into the world of disappointment, deceit and lies ... the only world Draco knows.
1. Chapter 1

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LIFE OF A MALFOY

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CHAPTER I 

  
"Sir? Draco Malfoy, sir. It is time to get up." Draco opened one eye at the sound of the high pitched voice. The curtains had been pulled and light was streaming into his spacious room. The young boy squinted and slowly the figure of the intruder came into focus. A small creature wearing an old pillowcase stood before him. Seeing the young boy was waking, the creature bent low, bowing his head graciously to the ground. 

  
Draco rolled his eyes. "Surely you have something better to do than to wake me up so early in the morning." He glared at the creature before pushing the house-elf off the side of his bed. The creature stumbled and fell to the ground, landing with a loud thud. "Now, that's better, go and see to my father or something," the boy said, dismissively, waving a hand groggily in the air. 

  
The house-elf didn't move; "but sir, Dobby must tell what master has ordered him; Draco Malfoy must get out of bed now, sir; he must get his school equipment from Diagon Alley today." Draco groaned and turned so that his head was buried in his pillow. His father had reminded him, the previous day, of the necessary trip to the popular street. The house-elf excused himself and, bowing low once again, fled from the room. 

  
Draco swung his legs over the edge of his bed, deciding to sit still for a few moments before standing. As he sat, Draco looked around his room. It was immaculately clean, with a large wardrobe leaning against the wall. His bed lay opposite a window which overlooked a huge field surrounded by trees which reached almost fifteen feet in the air. A few posters hung from the wall and the room looked entirely as if it belonged to a normal eleven-year old boy. It did not however. This was one of the largest bedrooms of the Malfoy estate and it belonged to Draco, the soul heir of the family's fortunes. The Malfoys were one of the most well-known wizarding families and Draco was, not unlike the rest of his family even dating back to the time of his ancestors, a wizard. 

Draco stood and picked up a carved piece of wood from a small cabinet next to his bed. Pointing the stick at his bed, he muttered the word 'Immaculus' and instantly the bedcovers flew forward, lying neatly over the sheets and the pillows were fluffed. Draco mumbled to himself as he sauntered over to his wardrobe and opened the heavy wooden doors. Inside each door was a full-length mirror, which shimmered in the light. What was more intriguing was the size of the wardrobe. From the outside, it had appeared to be only a foot from the wall. Now that it was open, it seemed to go on for miles. Draco stepped into the wardrobe, murmured an inaudible word and instantly the end of his wand lit up, releasing a pale green glow.   
  
The young boy muttered to himself as he sorted through the rows of hangers. Small white labels had been stuck at the end of each row and Draco read out loud some of the names as he passed. When he reached 'Muggle Wear' he stopped. This row had been organised into an assortment of jeans, T-shirts and jumpers. "Damn Muggles," Draco muttered under his breath at the sight of them. He pulled a light pair of jeans and a black T-shirt off a couple of hangers and carried them back out of the wardrobe. Slipping off his bed-clothes, Draco pulled the 'Muggle wear' on. He turned and studied himself in the mirror. As soon as his eyes connected with the image, the image sharpened, the shimmering light was gone. 

  
Draco glared at the reflection. In the mirror, he saw a young boy with a pale face, staring back at him with ice-blue eyes. The boy's hair was fair, almost silver-blond and gleamed as the sunlight struck it. The boy was wearing light blue jeans which were held loosely by a belt. Draco tugged unconsciously on the belt, pulling them up a few inches. The T-shirt that the reflection wore, contrasted immediately with the almost unnaturally pale complexion of the boy's face. The reflection began to move. Slowly, the representation shifted from one pose to another, sometimes frowning and at other times, smirking. 

Draco pushed the wardrobe door shut, forcefully. These clothes would do, he thought, satisfied, it wasn't as if he was going to meet anyone more important than himself. He ran a hand swiftly through his hair, untangling a small knot. "Geliacarious," he ordered his wand. The piece of wood made a popping sound and emitted a thin green mist. "Worthless piece of _"   
  
"Draco!" He froze as he heard his father's voice calling him. He threw the wand on the floor where it snapped in half. Draco looked at it for a moment, an angry gleam clearly visible in his eyes. He scanned his room, frantically, looking for a pot of wax which he could use to slick back his hair. He could see none and stamped his foot angrily.

  
"Malfoys do not go out looking like they have just thrown themselves together," he muttered under his breath, remembering his father's words. Flinging open his door, Draco descending the stairs into the grand entrance hall. To the right was the spacious room in which he knew he would find his father. "'Morning," he said politely but without conviction. 

  
His father stood and strode across the room, turning his back on his son, and resting with his fists placed firmly on the windowsill. Lucius Malfoy was a tall, well-built man with similar features to Draco. He had the same pointed facial elements, similar blond hair and cold grey eyes. "Draco." His father spoke slowly and sternly. "Today we are going to Diagon Alley; we'll get you everything you'll need for your time at Hogwarts." 

  
Draco felt a small smile playing at his lips; "Father, can I have a broomstick? Mine's slow and I'd like a better one. With a better broom, it'll be much easier to get into the Slytherin Quidditch team." Draco looked at his father's back, pleading silently. 

Lucius turned slowly; "Draco, how many times do I have to tell you; you know first-years are not allowed their own brooms. And besides," his father walked towards him until he stood directly in front of his son, "you might not even be sorted into Slytherin." Lucius strode past Draco, leaving the room. Draco turned and scowled at his father's retreating back. Not get into Slytherin, he thought, there was no way he was going to be the first in his family not to be sorted into that House. 

  
Draco followed his father, making sure that he stayed at least twenty paces behind him. The small eleven-year old was deep in thought; remembering all that he had been told of his new school. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was one of the greatest wizarding schools in the country, let alone the world. It had a reputation for turning out some of the greatest and most powerful wizards the world had ever seen. There were four houses; Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and, of course, Slytherin. His entire family had belonged to Slytherin, a house well-known for attracting the most cunning and deceitful wizards. 

  
"Ten minutes, Draco, " his father said sternly as he turned into his own room. Draco rolled his eyes and traipsed into his own room, mumbling under his breath. He didn't see why they had to collect his school equipment so early in the holiday, he still had over half a month before he would leave for his new school. 

  
"Boy, get down here now." Draco sighed as he heard his father calling him, only seven minutes later. Pulling a dark cloak over his shoulders, Draco fastened the two buttons at the top, straightening a few creases as he did so. "Hurry!" he heard again. 

"Alright, alright," he grumbled, inaudible to anyone but him. On his way down the hall, he passed the small house-elf who was carrying a pile of clean pillow-cases which almost doubled his height. For a second or two, Draco entertained the idea of kicking the small creature but, smirking mischievously, only passed him by. 

  
As he reached the bottom of the stairs, his mother immediately flew to him, flattening his hair and pulling his robes tighter together. He squirmed with annoyance as she ignored his glares and continued to shuffle around him straightening his clothes. 

  
He was almost grateful when his father roughly grabbed one of her arms, pulling her out of reach. "Stop fussing, woman," he growled spitefully, pushing her into the hall. Draco strolled into the room after his father, rolling his eyes at his parent's backs. "You first," Lucius barked at his wife, "I'll take the boy." 

  
With a sharp point of the wand and a mutter of words, Narcissa disappeared into thin air. Draco wasn't shocked, he was used to this kind of behaviour. At an early age, his parents had taught him many charms, spells and incantations that should not be learnt until he reached secondary school. Apparition, a particularly difficult mode of transportation, was nonetheless one of the most effective. It involved disappearing from one place and appearing in another the following second. Although Draco was underage and had never taken a test, he was now skilled enough in this area to use it whenever possible. Of course, he couldn't just turn up anywhere. They had struck a deal with an owner of a shop down one of the small side-streets in Diagon Alley and that's where they would reappear. 

Positioning Draco in front of himself, Lucius lightly placed his large palms on the balls of his son's shoulders. He gave them a small squeeze, by way of an involuntary show of encouragement. "Right," he said, "you know what to do." 

  
Muttering a single word, Draco tapped his wand in the air. Immediately, the wooden furnishing of the Malfoy Manor began to blur, colours zipping past his eyes at the speed of light. Almost as quickly as it had started, it stopped. Looking around, Draco saw that he and his father, still standing in the same position, were now in the back storage room of a shop. 

  
Draco smirked as Lucius patted him on the shoulder, pleased with proving to his father he would be a great wizard. At the side of the room sat Narcissa, holding a hand gingerly to her forehead.   
  
"Come on," snarled Lucius, making his way out of the store-room, "stop being so melodramatic." Silently, Narcissa stood and followed her husband and her son out of the door. Once in the main shop area, Lucius politely nodded his head towards the owner before sauntering out the door. Draco followed his father, shielding his eyes from the sun as he stepped out into the busy street. "This way," Lucius said, gruffly, his cloak billowing out behind him as he strode through the crowd. 

Stepping onto the main street, Draco was amazed to see just how many people there were just milling around. He glanced up at the names of each of the shops as they passed, looking in the windows of the more interesting ones.

  
The family came to a halt outside a crooked-looking building. _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. _"Your mother and I are going to look around for a bit," said Lucius slowly, "Malkin will know what to do." 

  
Draco nodded, opening the door to the shop slowly. It wasn't his first time in here. Madam Malkin provided the family with all their robes, from the matching dress robes with the Malfoy coat of arms embroidered on the deep velvet, to the robes they wore each day. With an air of arrogance and self-importance, Draco stepped over the threshold and into the small shop. It consisted of one large room with a passage-way leading off from the far right corner. Through there, Draco could only assume lay a work room where the robes would be made. 

  
The plump owner of the shop was rather pre-occupied. On a small stool at the far side of the shop was a small round boy who was fumbling nervously. Madam Malkin knelt in front of the boy, busy hemming up a plain black robe. "Mr Longbottom," she said crossly, "please stop moving. Else you'll end up with this pin in your leg." At these words, the boy stood shock-still, arms pinned to his side. 

Draco chuckled in amusement. The woman on the floor turned at the sound. "Ahh, Mr Malfoy," she continued, turning her attention back to the robe she was altering. "Two minutes and I'll be with you." Draco nodded at her turned back before glancing around the room he stood in. It was well-lit, with pale walls all displaying differently coloured robes which looked to be in all shapes and sizes. He would never admit it but Draco loved to visit Madam Malkin's shop. He couldn't explain what it was but here, he could fully appreciate the many hours that were put into each piece of clothing. 

  
Minutes later, Madam Malkin was indeed finished with the boy named Longbottom. He was met at the door by an elderly lady who Draco assumed must be his grandmother, who paid for the services, before they exited into the busy wizarding street. With a clap of her hands, Madam Malkin turned round to face Draco, a smile planted firmly on her face. 

  
"Young Draco," she greeted him in her usual warm voice, "I'm assuming you're here to pick up your new Hogwarts robes." The statement was more of a question and so Draco nodded his head politely. "As I thought. I made up some in advance. I'll just need to bring up the hem a little I think." With a wink, the friendly lady exited the room into the passage-way, returning only moments later with a shining black robe hanging delicately from her folded arm.   


Draco slipped the material over his shoulders, allowing the shop-owner to fasten the buttons. Once buttoned, the robe was then brushed down and he was inspected. Standing on the stool, in his new school robes, Draco felt an over-riding sense of pride wash over him. It was then that Draco noticed another presence in the room. A young boy of his age was standing by the door, his fingers still wrapped around the handle tightly. Draco's eyes narrowed and he raised his eyebrows with sudden interest. 

  
The boy's face was familiar, although Draco couldn't quite place it. It was an earnest face, with wide eyes and dark, unruly hair that fell onto his forehead. The boy shuffled his feet anxiously as he took in the room. Draco sneered. There was something about this boy; something he couldn't quite work out. 

  
"Draco. If you wouldn't mind just waiting a few moments," Madam Malkin said, politely, as she pulled herself up from her knees. She walked the length of the room until she stood directly in front of the boy. "Hogwarts, dear?" she asked him. 

  
The boy nodded and was led to a stool next to Draco, upon which he was soon stood. The boy stood stationary, only his eyes moving as they darted around the room, taking in every detail. Draco rolled his eyes and fought the urge to make a snide comment at the young boy's evident naivety. 

Only minutes later, Madam Malkin was finished and, after helping Draco take the robe off, she handed to him in a crisp black bag with the shop's fancy logo emblazoned on the front. It was then that the door to the shop opened once again. Draco knew who had walked in before he heard his father's voice address the keeper. 

  
"How much is that then?" Lucius asked with cold civility, handing over a number of coins before turning back to his son. "Books next, Draco." 

  
With one final look over his shoulder at the boy, Draco followed his father out of the shop. As they wandered down the alley, Draco peered into the window of every shop they passed. Some interested him more than others. There were windows that were full of books with interesting-looking covers; other windows displayed shelf upon shelf of creatures that could supposedly be kept as pets. One shop they passed had a crowd of children standing outside the window, all pointing excitedly at what the display held. Taking a step closer, Draco could see that, on a shelf in the middle of the window display, was a broomstick. 

This was a broomstick unlike all others; the Nimbus 2000. It was polished to a high standard; it's dark wooden handle decorated with intricate carvings. The bristles were firm and fastened together with a single gold band. The handle was shaped for easy use and it was, in Draco's young eyes, the best broomstick he had ever seen. 

"But dad," Draco heard a young boy plead with his father, "please can I have it? I'll practise every day, you know I will. I'll do anything." Draco snorted at the boy's obvious desperation before returning his attention to the broomstick and it's price tag. It wasn't anything too surprising. Draco would have been able to afford it himself, without having to ask his father, but he knew it would be useless. As his father kept reminding him, first-years were not allowed to take broomsticks with them to Hogwarts. He would just have to get himself a top of the range broomstick for his second year. 

  
After another hour of shopping for Draco's school equipment, the family retired to the Leaky Cauldron, a pub which catered for the likes of all wizards. Seeing his family to a table in the corner, Lucius made his way to the bar, where he proceeded to order the drinks. 

Draco glared straight ahead, ignoring his mother's presence. He wasn't happy. He had wanted a new owl to take with him to school, but he had promptly been informed he was to use one of the old house owls, Jasper. In the wizarding world, post-boxes were rarely found. In fact, Draco had only seen one once, in a Muggle artefacts shop his old school had arranged a trip to. Owls were, instead, the preferred method of sending letters. Jasper was, however, a fairly young owl with a tendency to get lost on the simplest of routes. Draco had even offered to pay for a new owl out of his own pocket money, but had failed to win his father around. 

  
It took a couple of minutes before Draco realised there was someone staring back at him. A girl. With slightly curled, bushy hair and wide brown eyes. Any other day, Draco would probably have at least made an effort with this girl, but not today. Today, Draco wasn't in the mood. Feeling thoroughly annoyed by her, Draco made a disapproving face, turning his nose up at her, before redirecting his gaze. By the time his father returned, the girl was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Thank you, guys, for your kind words. This is a little fic I've been working on whilst writing the big one which is slowly getting reposted on here – _Double Trouble ._ It all started with an obsession with Draco and well, this just delves a little bit deeper into what our favourite Slytherin has to go through. If you have any comments or suggestions, I'd love to read them. Don't be afraid to write anything and I'll consider it. Anyway, thanks again, I really do appreciate you taking the time to read this!! **CHAPTER II**

Draco squinted as a single beam of light fell upon his face. On a small chair which had been placed before the windowsill, stood the house-elf, his arms extended in an attempt to pull the curtains. Rubbing his eyes, Draco watched with amusement as the small creature continued to fight with the drapes. Once the material was tied back, offering a view of the extensive Malfoy grounds, Dobby presented himself to his young master.

"Good morning, Draco Malfoy, sir," he began, "Dobby wishes his master all the best for Hogwarts, sir." Draco grimaced; he had heard enough. Jumping abruptly from his bed, he let the bedcovers fall in such a way that they covered the small elf. Gleefully, he watched as Dobby thrashed about in the darkness trying to find a way out. 

Once the elf had escaped from the inner depths of his master's covers, he scurried through the open door, only to be called upon by the lady of the house, Narcissa Malfoy. Draco drowned out the sounds of his mother's voice as he picked up his new wand, gazing at it in amazement. He had never been short of a wand or two, but up until now, he had never been properly 'fitted', as such. Much to his frustration, Draco's wands had tended to be fairly temperamental, lasting only half a year if he was lucky. This wand, however, was specially suited to him. Dragon heartstring, the shopkeeper had told him, a fine make of wand. 

Holding the eight inch strip of wood between his thumb and forefinger as he had so many times before, Draco looked around his room for something to try a spell out on.

"Securius," he called firmly, pointing his wand in the direction of his bedroom door. Instantly, it slammed shut, the sound of the key turning in the lock following a second later. Satisfied, Draco placed the wand proudly on his pillow. Standing back, he stared at it, a smile playing at his lips.

"Boy, that better not have been you playing with that wand again." Draco jumped as he heard his father's stern voice calling to him from his study downstairs. With a look of irritation mixed with anger firmly planted on his face, Draco used the simple unlocking charm he had been taught ages ago to open his door. Sighing, Draco looked around his room. He wouldn't miss it, he decided. Sure, Hogwarts was unlikely to have as much storage space as he was used to, but he would have to make do. With any luck he would be able to talk his way onto the Quidditch field.

Knowing he probably didn't have too much time left, Draco slipped on the shirt and plain trousers his mother had left folded over a chair. He grimaced at the crispness of the lightly coloured shirt and made a point to mention his dislike of the colour blue to his mother the next time he saw her. 

Grumbling quietly, Draco collected together the final few things he needed to take to Hogwarts and began to descend the stairs. He was met firstly by his mother who clasped her hands over her mouth, trying to hide her pride in her only son. Draco rolled his eyes, the same way his father would have done, and pushed past her. 

As Draco reached the dining room, he dumped his wand and school robes on an unused chair and sat at the table, waiting to be served. When no one appeared, Draco looked around once again, searching for any signs of life.

"Where is that low-life … Dobby!" he called angrily to the house-elf. When, a few moments later, the small creature appeared, Draco glared angrily at it, his silver flecks flashing through his eyes. "My breakfast … now," he commanded, making the house-elf jump.

As the house-elf darted off in the direction of the kitchens, Draco relaxed into the chair. Placing his hands behind his head, Draco stretched, finally waking up. He was looking forward to the adventure Hogwarts promised, but couldn't help feeling anxious. He had been told, by his father, that there might be a kid in his class he may recognise. His father had not been any more specific but Draco had his suspicions. 

Before he could ponder on the matter any further, Draco was interrupted by the sound of the house-elf returning, a brimming plate balancing precariously on the palm of his hand. Slowly, and with much care, the house-elf shuffled the plate of food in front of the boy, standing back as he awaited his master's approval.

Draco studied the spread in front of him. Two slices of toast, one fried egg, one sausage, two rashes of bacon, a spoonful of beans and a serving of fried mushrooms; a good breakfast if ever he had seen one. 

"That'll be all, elf," he said, and then after a pause, "thank you." As the house-elf bounded out of the dining room door to see to some other errand, Draco tucked into his breakfast. The food was warmed and cooked just to his liking. It wasn't long before the plate was empty, and, his hunger satisfied, Draco stretched one last time before leaving the room, his plate still on the dining table.

Draco's next port of call was his father's study. As he wandered through the large Malfoy estate, Draco let his thoughts wander. He had no idea what his seven years at Hogwarts had in store for him but hoped it would be all his father had told him it would be. In a strange way, Draco believed he looked up to his father. His attitudes and ideals of what the Malfoy name stood for may annoy him from time to time, but he was a figure of authority, a force to be reckoned with, a person who very few people ever argued with or disobeyed. 

Now outside the heavy oak door that separate the rest of the house from the study, Draco took a moment to check he looked presentable. If he had learnt anything in his eleven years of living, it was to always look at his best, after all you never know who you might meet, or where.

Knocking heavily, Draco waited for permission to enter the room. It had been six years ago that Draco had entered the study without knocking and still he remembered it. His father had been in there talking to the, then, Minister of Magic, Sertopus Kyack. Draco, only being five at the time, had bounded into the room to inform his father of some insignificant thing. Both adult faces had turned to face the small child, Kyack's portraying confusion but his father's was simply livid. With the force of a few words, Draco had been sent flying backwards, the study door closing heavily as he landed on the floor. The clicking sound of a door locking had followed. Ever since that day, Draco had made a point of knocking before entering any door he thought his father might be behind. 

"Enter." A gruff voice beckoned Draco into the well-lit study. Behind a large, sturdy desk sat Lucius Malfoy, his hair groomed to perfection as always, his staff at his side. Lucius had no need for a wand; any magic he would perform, he would do so with the aid of his staff. Draco looked at it momentarily before his eyes locked with his father's. "Ahh, Draco, ready for Hogwarts?"

"Yes father," Draco nodded, "we can go as soon as you're ready."

"Your mother," Lucius started, "she ready?" Draco nodded again. "Very well, I'll be out in two minutes. You wait in the hall." The young boy smiled as he left his father alone again. There was something about being in his father's presence that made him immensely proud of his background, his status within the wizarding world. And of course, as anyone with even an ounce of sense knew, those not in the wizarding world were not important enough to worry about.

Finding his mother on his way to the entrance hall, Draco told her his father's orders and together, they waited by the front door. Once again, Draco slipped into his own thoughts. He knew, even now, how the family would get to their desired destination, Kings Cross station. They would, of course, Apparate. His father had already spoken to him about the dangers of using such a mode of transport when he arrived at Hogwarts, the most important of which being that it was illegal for someone without a license. 

Presently, his father arrived and, after slipping a cloak of midnight blue over his shoulders, Lucius nodded silently to his wife. Seconds later, she disappeared into thin air. As had happened when the family had travelled to Diagon Alley, Draco was to Apparate with his father. Standing behind him, his hands resting on his son's shoulders, Lucius waited for his son to complete the spell. No sooner had Draco muttered a few words and tapped his wand in the air, did they start moving. Draco swayed involuntary as the colours of his house began to blur and the feeling of flying through the air came to him. Tightening his grip on the boy's shoulders, Lucius steadied his son, letting go only when they had stopped moving.

Wincing, Draco looked around him. They had arrived at the right place, for next to him stood his mother, leaning against the wall as if overcome with dizziness. They had not Apparated onto the actual platform; that would have been far too obvious and, if they had been caught, would have been almost impossible to explain away. Instead, they had appeared in a small alleyway which lay just outside the busy London railway station. Moving quickly, Lucius pushed his son and wife ahead of him, following them to the ninth platform. 

Carrying two of his trunks himself, Draco turned to face his father who nodded solemnly to him. Draco knew what this meant. Focusing clearly, the eleven-year old boy started walking at a brisk pace towards a brick column standing between platforms nine and ten. As he passed people hurrying in the opposite direction, Draco blanked out their voices, until the sounds became only a low hum. As the column got closer, Draco closed his eyes. He knew what was going to happen but couldn't stop the feeling of anxiety from washing over him. 

Hearing a quiet whooshing sound, Draco opened one eye, then another. He had passed right through the column and had ended up on an altogether different platform. Looking up, he read the sign; _PLATFORM 9¾ - HOGWARTS EXPRESS_. To his right waited a gleaming, red steam train. This, Draco knew, would be the way in which he would reach his new school.

The familiar whooshing noise brought Draco back to reality. Beside him now were his parents, his mother with a protective arm around his shoulders and his father carrying the rest of his luggage. All the way along the platform, other families were also lined up. Some were helping their children put their trunks onto the train, whilst others were already saying tearful goodbyes. Draco almost snorted with laughter, when he was startled by his father's voice.

"Hurry Draco," his father growled roughly, "we'll help you get your bags on and then we've got to leave." Pushing his way through children who looked his age and some who looked older, Draco led the way towards the nearest carriage. Opening the door wide, Draco let his father on first with two of the biggest trunks.

"Oi! Malfoy!" Draco could hear someone shouted over the incessant rabble surrounding him. Standing on the first step up to the train, Draco could see two of his friends from his last school making their way over to him. 

"Crabbe! Goyle!" he greeted them with surprise, "they let you in here?" Apparently, Draco wasn't the only one to be surprised that the two boys had made it into Hogwarts.

"I know! Great, huh?" started one of them, before the other one picked up.

"You wouldn't believe how shocked my family were. _Our son, in Hogwarts,_ they kept saying. I think the whole family found out in about five minutes." Draco smirked. He, of course, hadn't gone through the same process. From the age of four he had known all about Hogwarts; it's teachers, it's Houses, even it's subjects. He had been expected to go to the famous school of Wizardry. After all, if he hadn't, he would have been the first Malfoy in history not to have attended it. A gruff voice called to Crabbe. "I've got to go," Goyle started, "meet you on the train?" Draco nodded as the two boys plodded off to find their parents. 

Helping his father place the last of his bags on the train, Draco found himself a compartment and said a final farewell to his family. His mother was taking it worst, obviously fighting back tears as she pulled her son into an unwanted embrace.

"I'll miss you," she kept repeating.

"Let the boy be, Narcissa," snarled Lucius as he began to peel her arms from around Draco's neck. His son looked relieved. "Well, Draco, you just behave," he said simply, a reminiscent smile beginning to curl onto his lips, "and remember –"

"Mudbloods are scum," Draco finished off his father's sentence, knowing what he was going to say.

"Not the choice of words I would have used, but they'll suffice." Lucius smirked knowingly at his son, patting his lightly on the shoulder. "Anythin-" The sound of the compartment door opening interrupted Lucius' sentence. "Excuse me, we're busy," he said, turning as he spoke. "Snape," he snarled, his attempt at disguising his surprise and annoyance failing utterly.

"Lucius," replied the man dressed in long black robes, as he accepted and shook Lucius' outstretched hand. This, Draco knew, was the Potions master, Severus Snape. He and his father had gone to school at the same time and although they didn't seem to appreciate each other's company too much, Draco knew they corresponded with each other. Letters were sent each week to the Professor. "And," sneered the Professor, "this must be Draco, the youngest of the Malfoy family." Turning to him, the Professor offered his hand, "nice to finally have met you, Draco."

"The pleasure is all mine, Professor," replied Draco, putting on an innocent face and smiling politely. A quick glance at his father reassured him this was the correct thing to do. Winking subtly to his son, Lucius nodded his head slightly.

"We were just leaving Severus," he told the Professor, blatantly hinting. The Professor recognised this and, with a polite word to Narcissa, left the family alone again. "As I was saying, Draco," Lucius continued when he was certain the Professor had left, "anything you want, or any problems you have, just send us an owl." Allowing his wife one final embrace with her son, they left Draco alone in the compartment.

Picking a seat near to the window, Draco watched the last of the children clamber onto the trains, their parents left on the platform. He saw his mother and father emerge onto the platform moments later and watched as his mother turned, giving him one final wave, before they Apparated into thin air. Draco sighed; he liked to be alone and was content with the solitude the empty compartment allowed him. Closing his eyes, Draco's mind began to drift.

"Is this – oh." A young female voice brought Draco's mind reeling back to the present. His eyes first fell upon the girl's dark bushy hair and chocolate-coloured eyes. He recognised her but couldn't quite place where from. It took only a few seconds for Draco to remember her from when the family had retired to the leaky Cauldron after shopping in Diagon Alley. She was a Muggle, Draco immediately realised. Her clothes were those which a typical Muggle would wear, but it was her expression that gave it away. She looked completely amazed by everything her eyes fell upon. Draco sniggered silently, deciding to have a little fun with her before he dismissed her.

"Are you actually going to speak?" he asked her teasingly, although with a touch of menace in his voice, "are you just going to stand there staring at me as if I'm in one of those – what do you call them? _Boy_bands?" Draco extended the last word, making sure she knew of his disgust for such a thing.

For a moment, the girl's eyes clouded over with confusion. "All I was going to ask is if I could sit here, but I won't even bother anymore," she informed him. Draco nodded, pleased with himself. The girl began to make for the door and as she was closing it, she turned to face him again. "What _is_ your problem?" she asked him, her eyebrows raised questioningly. 

"You … actually," Draco answered simply, twisting his body so that she was no longer in his line of vision. The sound of the door closing assured him the girl had left him to his own devices and he readjusted his seating position until he was comfortable. "Damn mudbloods," he muttered under his breath, "always bloody interfering." It surprised Draco just how much he sounded like his father, but that was not something for him to worry about. Closing his heavy eyelids once again, Draco slipped into a deep sleep, dreaming about a world where only wizards existed. 


	3. Chapter 3

****

CHAPTER III

"Should we – you know – wake him?" A thick voice interrupted Draco's dreams and, in an attempt to ignore them, the young boy turned over in his sleep. The perpetrator of the voice obviously took this as encouragement. "Draco! Draco!"

Thoroughly annoyed, Draco pried his eyes open, only to be faced with the grinning faces of Crabbe and Goyle. They were already dressed in their school robes which, although being too big for them, gave them an air of maturity. Too bad I knew them already, thought Draco, a smile threatening to produce itself on his face, despite his bad mood. 

"What do you want?" he grumbled angrily, looking them in the eye. "I was sleeping, if you hadn't guessed."

"We're nearly there, Draco." The smaller boy, Goyle spoke up. "Thought you'd appreciate the extra time to get ready, maybe take a look at who else is on the train. Did you know Pansy made it Hogwarts?" Draco nodded. He had known Pansy Parkinson practically all his life. Her family had always had close relations to his own; in fact, her mother had even been a bridesmaid at his parent's wedding. Due to this, the two children had spent endless hours together, planning spells and charms they could use on any unsuspecting Muggles if and when they saw them. "Course you did," continued Goyle, "anyway, she's a few compartments down; seemed pretty keen to see you again. Sure there's nothing going on?"

"No," Draco bit back. It always irritated him how people assumed there was something going on between him and Pansy. Couldn't a guy just be friends with a girl and keep it at that? "Maybe I'd better get changed now," he told them and, when they failed to take the hint, continued, "alone?"

"Oh … sure." Eventually, the two boys left him to his empty compartment. Draco rolled his eyes as he opened one of the smaller trunks. His black Hogwarts robe was lying on the top, neatly folded in such a way that it wouldn't get creased. His mother's doing, Draco assumed. Pulling off his sweater, Draco wrapped the robe around his shoulders, clasping the buttons which lined the front. 

The uniform at Hogwarts was fairly lax. Students were required to wear their school robes whenever they had lessons. For Muggles, Draco supposed, stifling a snigger as he repeated the word in his head, it would be unusual, but for Draco it was no new concept. He had been wearing robes since he could remember. The particular garment he wore now was lined on the inside, ensuring warmth. They fitted perfectly; Madam Malkin certainly knew her trade. Draco was just inspected the final few touches when the door to his carriage opened once again.

"What do you want now?" Draco, facing the opposite direction, had no idea how had just opened his compartment, but suspected it to be either Crabbe or Goyle. 

"Just coming to see how you look," a rather coarse voice informed him. 

"Pansy." Draco spun around to greet her, his voice cordial, "you look –" His voice trailed off as Pansy, unable to resist the urge, spun around for him, "- great." 

"I know," Pansy sighed, throwing herself into a empty seat. In fairness, Draco didn't think Pansy looked all that good but he had learnt, during their many years of friendship, this was what she wanted to hear. "You don't look so bad yourself, Drakie." Draco winced, he hated it when she called him that; it sounded so – so childish and well, Muggle-ish. "What a surprise seeing Crabbe and Goyle here," Pansy continued, "and I've already seen the _Weasleys_."

Draco made a face once again. The Weasleys were a rather large family who the Malfoys did not care to know. With five children and a severe lack of money, in Draco's mind, the Weasleys were practically Muggles. They made no secret of the father's love of anything to do with non-wizarding folk and, all in all, they were a disgrace to the wizarding world. Apparently, one of the youngest Weasleys would be in Draco's year – he'd be a Gryffindor for sure; following in the footsteps of his brothers. 

"Ten minutes, dears," called a friendly voice from the compartment door. Both children looked up at the same time to see the recoiling head of a plump witch pushing an empty cart down the train.

"Nearly there," Draco repeated. The excitement was building up inside of him; this was what the last few years at his previous school had been building up to; Hogwarts. "I wonder what House you'll be in, Pansy," he teased her, knowing exactly how she would reply.

"What House?" she snorted, showing her obvious amusement at Draco's supposed ignorance, "Slytherin, of course!" Draco turned to look out the train window, smiling as he did so. His friend was such a simple creature. In fact, he guessed that they wouldn't still have been friends if she had been able to match his intelligence. "I suppose you'll be in Slytherin too," Pansy continued, Draco's sarcastic comment going utterly unnoticed for what it really was, "it'll be a bit of a shock if you aren't, eh?"

Draco smiled sardonically.

"Yeah, whatever." Draco, once again, diverted his eyes from the boisterous girl. She continued rummaging through a small trunk, obviously on a mission to find some forgotten object. "Hogwarts," Draco breathed to himself as the train slowly pulled to a halt. The castle was not yet in view and the young boy shivered with the anticipation of finally seeing what he had read in books for many years. 

Leaving their luggage on the train as instructed, Draco followed Pansy out of the compartment and jumped off the train onto a small darkly lit platform. Draco squinted, his eyes taking a while to adjust to the sudden darkness. The air was chilly but not entirely unpleasant. Draco leant his head back, wanting to feel more of the cool air on his face.

"Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here! Follow me." A loud rumbling voice and a bright yellow light brought Draco's head back level again. Scanning the area, it wasn't long before Draco had worked out who the voice belonged to. Standing far above the heads of the small first-year students was an over-sized man who Draco could only assume was some kind of giant. Draco smirked at the sight of the large creature with a thick fuzzy beard. He looked totally out of place in amongst the latest recruits to the school of wizardry. Probably a gardener, Draco remarked to himself, certainly nothing more. 

Joining the line of his fellow first-years, Draco followed the large man as he led the way down a narrow path that fell steeply down the side of a hill. To each side of the path, Draco could just make out the faint outlines of thick tree trunks. The castle was well guarded, he had to admit that. He doubted anyone would find the castle unless they were looking specifically for it. 

"We'll see the castle in a minute," squeaked a small boy, excitedly, his Irish accent slurring his words carelessly.

"Oh, fun," Draco mumbled, sarcastically, not really intending the boy to hear. The boy, however, turned out to be correct. As the troupe took a sharp right turn, the foremost of the crowd stopped in their tracks. Within seconds, there was a build-up of the first-year students, all wanting to have their first glimpse of the school where they would spend the next seven years of their life. Draco pushed through the crowd to get a better look himself. In front of where he stood was a small path leading down to still black waters. In the distance, stood Hogwarts. A mangle of turrets and towers, the castle was an impressive feature. Even Draco was taken-aback. The gleam of the moonlight upon the water of the lake only seemed to enhance every aspect of the castle's structure. 

"This way t' the boats," the giant began to say, "no more'n four to a boat though." Instantly there ensued a scramble of arms and legs as the students attempted to organise themselves into the small boats. Draco found himself in a boat with Crabble, Goyle and the small Irish boy. Once satisfied everyone had found a seat, the giant spoke again; "FORWARD," he bellowed. 

The small fleet of boats glided off from where they had been harboured and began the slow, yet short, journey towards the castle. Each boat was a similar sight; silent first-year students all looking up to the great castle that lay ahead. 

"Wow, are you excited?" The Irish boy next to Draco spoke up again.

"Yes. Ecstatic," Draco answered bluntly. Giving him a funny look, the boy closed his mouth and turned back to look at his new school. In truth, Draco was just as overwhelmed as anyone but, as if by nature, he had found it necessary to answer in the way he had. The boy annoyed him. He had no right to be talking to Draco Malfoy.

Gradually, the boats began to slow as they drew up to what appeared to be an underground harbour. In hardly any time, all the first-years had clambered out of their boats and were following the giant up a passageway leading further into the rock. They stopped when they came to a huge door. Taking his time to take long, deliberated knocks on the door, the giant turned back to flash a grin at the waiting students. 

Almost immediately after the third and final knock, the heavy oak door swung open. In the doorway stood a tall black-haired witch with a stern face and seemed to glare down the end of her nose at the new students. Draco knew the Professor to be McGonagall, the Head of the Gryffindor house for at least twenty years now. In fact, Draco was convinced that she had even been working at the school when his father had attended. 

"Thank you, Hagrid, I'll take them from here," the lady spoke as she led the group of children up to another set of heavy doors. Here, she stopped, turning to look at them. "Welcome to Hogwarts," she began, before offering the new students a brief introduction to the school. She began describing the Sorting process before continuing onto the actual houses. "The houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin," Professor McGonagall told them. Draco smiled with pride at the sound of the last house. "The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes. Might I suggest you make yourselves look –" the Professor paused, taking a quick glance at the students, "presentable while you are waiting."

As the Professor left the students, a low murmur arose. The first-years were either nervous or excited, or both. Draco kept to himself, refusing to join in whatever whispered conversation Pansy Parkinson was having with Crabbe and Goyle. Draco was sure he had nothing to worry about. He didn't know what he would have to do during the Sorting Ceremony, but he knew he'd be able to handle it. If it involved any wizardry, he was convinced he knew more than most of the young wizards surrounding him.

"Right, now form an orderly line." The old witch had returned and, with her back against the doors, was addressing the new students. Draco stepped behind Pansy and with a sigh of apprehension, waited for the double doors to be opened. 

When they were, even Draco couldn't hold back the gasp of amazement that escaped his lips. Thousands of flickering candles lit the room, each floating above one of the four long tables. Students sat at either side of these tables, every head turned towards where the new students shuffled anxiously at the back of the Hall. At the front of the Hall was placed a long, albeit shorter, table where the teachers sat. Moving quickly, Professor McGonagall led the new students down the Hall, past the staring faces of the current students until they gathered in a crowd at the front. Trying to take in as much as humanely possible, Draco scanned the room. It was bigger than he had expected and the ceiling – the ceiling looked as if it was indeed the genuine night's sky. Stars sparkled on a deep velvety black sky and for a moment, Draco was bewitched by the sight. The night had always been his favourite time, when he had felt completely alone, entirely detached from the world in which he lived. 

Hushed whispers filled the air as Professor McGonagall returned to face the students, placing a four-legged stool in front of them. Atop the stood perched an old pointed wizard's hat. Had he not been so overwhelmed, Draco would have smirked at the sight. The hat was dirty-looking with a number of darned patches leading up to its point. Draco stared intently at the hat, wondering what on earth it had to do with the Sorting process. When the murmurs quietened down and the Hall was filled only with complete silence, the hat twitched. A loud and powerful voice began to sing, the words echoing around the Hall. It didn't take long before Draco realised it was in fact the hat that was singing.

__

Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowler's black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achiever their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!

As the Hall erupted with applause, Draco almost laughed. All I have to do is try on a stupid hat, he thought to himself, looking around to see what would happen next. Once the noise had ceased, Professor McGonagall once again addressed the students.

"When I call your name, please sit on the stool and put the hat on to be sorted," she announced cordially. Holding a long roll of parchment in front of her, Professor McGonagall squinted through her glasses and read out the first name on the list. "Abbott, Hannah!"

Hearing her name being called, a clumsy little girl with blonde pigtails stepped out from behind Draco. With her face ever reddening, she almost tiptoed to the stool, picked up the hat, put it on her head and sat lightly on the edge of the stool. The hat, being rather large, covered her eyes completely. After a moment's pause, the hat spoke up.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" it shouted.

Draco watched as almost every student sitting at the table to the far right stood up, smiling broadly and applauding their newest recruit. The din had barely died down before Professor McGonagall called the next name.

As the new students were sorted into the various houses, Draco shuffled from one foot to the other. As his nerves began to fray, he wondered just what it would be like if he wasn't sorted into Slytherin. With a shudder, Draco decided it didn't even bear thinking about. Crabbe and Goyle were swiftly sorted into Slytherin, and Draco awaited the moment he would climb up onto the stool. Draco's attention snapped back to the stool and the Sorting Hat as the young girl he had bumped into a couple of times stepped forward. Draco thought he had heard Professor McGonagall call her Hermione Granger, something like that. 

The bushy-haired girl practically skipped her way to the stool and pulled the hat eagerly onto her head. A proud smile firmly planted on her face, Malfoy almost snickered out loud.

"GRYFFINDOR," the hat announced in a loud voice. Draco wasn't surprised. 

"Malfoy, Draco." It wasn't long before his own name was called out and Draco, with a shrug of his shoulder, pushed to the front of the crowd and began the slow walk to the stool. The journey seemed to take forever and Draco was surprised just how nervous he actually felt. Remembering the words of his father, Draco grimaced, hoping against hope he would be sorted into Slytherin. 


End file.
